


Start of Something

by Metal_Chocobo



Category: Women's Hockey RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Baking, Domestic, F/F, Sickfic, Soulmate-Identifying Marks, Team as Family, Yuletide 2016
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-17
Updated: 2016-12-17
Packaged: 2018-09-06 21:36:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 9,701
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8770216
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Metal_Chocobo/pseuds/Metal_Chocobo
Summary: Julie wished her soulmate’s first words to her weren’t simply ‘Chu.’
Charlie bakes a pie. Marie helps.
Caro has stomach flu. Everyone checks on her.





	1. Soulmark

**Author's Note:**

  * For [cottoneyed](https://archiveofourown.org/users/cottoneyed/gifts).



Julie tried hard not to covet things, but she was downright jealous of her siblings’ first words. Richie had an entire complex sentence inked onto his arm and while Christie’s was simply ‘Oh wow… hi,’ everyone assumed she must have left something memorable on her soulmate. Julie would seriously consider maiming someone for a better soulmark tattoo.

Chu. That’s all her wrist said. Just ‘Chu’ in a nice italic script. It fit into the space between her radius and ulna on her right wrist. She could almost hide the entire thing under a watchband. A lot of her friends had large looping scrawl across their backs or thighs that wasn’t simply their last names. She tried her best not to stare, but she was so envious of the fact they might actually figure out who their soulmate was.

Julie knew she was better off compared to some individuals. Occasionally, people never got any words at all and had to assume their soulmate died, never spoke to them, or simply never existed at all. Sometimes though, when it was late at night and she couldn’t sleep, Julie almost wished she was one of those people. After all, they never developed a Pavlovian response to jerk around whenever they heard their name in case it was someone new calling them. They never had their heart leap into their throat whenever they were introduced to someone new and that person started their greeting with their last name.

Julie couldn’t begin to express how much she hated the phrase, “Chu, nice to meet you,” because it always yanked her hopes around. Add in the fact she played hockey, and the boys were always called by their last name, it became a real mess. She could go by her last name like the others and jerk her neck around until she pulled something, or use her first name and be even more alienated than she already was. Julie chose the neck pain.

At least it turned out she was really good at hockey. When she made it to high school, Julie finally made it onto a girls’ team, since Choate Rosemary Hall had one. Even better, it was an absurdly good one. Their captain, a senior named Angela ‘Rugger’ Ruggiero, was so good she was the youngest player on the US National Team and won the first Olympic gold medal for women’s ice hockey. Julie was in such awe of her captain—who had just been named to the Olympic roster when Julie met her—that she never could remember the first words out of her mouth to Rugger, but she’d always remember hers.

“Chu… nice to have you on the team.” Rugger then ruffled her hair and headed to her locker.

It had been such a heartfelt disappointment that it gave Julie her first inkling she liked girls. Still, as disappointing as that first meeting had been for her, Julie soon realized she’d much rather have Rugger as a friend than a girlfriend. She was hot tempered and found it far easier to hate than Julie ever could, but she was also the most loyal of friends. They kept in touch even after Rugger graduated and she was the first teammate to congratulate Julie when she finally made the national team as well.

Julie deferred her first year at Harvard for the Olympics, which didn’t thrill her parents, but they understood. This might be her only chance representing her nation and college would still be waiting for her next year. There was nothing that could ever make Julie feel prouder than putting on that red, white, and blue uniform. 

In the months leading up to the Salt Lake City Olympics Julie learned the national team hated Canada. Really hated them—and the feeling was mutual. They played a series of exhibition games against the Canadians leading up to the Olympics as a final stint of practice before the tournament. The icy behavior wasn’t limited to the rink. The teams completely ignored each other in non-game situations, which led to the most awkward elevator ride of Julie’s life when she rode with four Team Canada players in stony silence. Everyone knew that Cassie Campbell kept an extremely rude note about Rugger taped to her locker wherever she played and, in her defense, everyone knew Rugger applied the same terminology to her.

The only thing Julie hated was how much the teams hated each other. Women’s hockey was a small world and the only way she could see it growing was if teams worked together to build a bigger community. No one else on either team seemed willing to bridge the divide, so Julie took it upon herself to try thawing relations a little. They wouldn’t talk to her off the ice, and she wasn’t about to chitchat during the game, but there was a brief moment to speak during the after game handshake. That ought to be enough time to compliment the Canadians on their game and maybe break the ice with one of them. It was worth a shot.

Julie didn’t want to pay the other team false compliments. They’d spot it for pandering instantly and trust her less in the future. So she made a point of observing everyone’s play to ensure she had something positive to say about everyone. Perhaps it would have been better if Canada had won any of the games, but the games were about preparing for the Olympics and national pride, not feelings.

Julie deployed her compliments after the final game of the series. It was her last chance before the Olympics and she finally had something positive to say about everyone. The Canadians seemed surprised Julie didn’t just mumble ‘good game’ and limply press her hand to theirs like it was a dead fish. A few even smiled when she complimented them on their stick handling skills, physicality, and pinpoint passing.

Then she reached Caroline Ouellette. Ouellette was strong and fast like the others, but she also had a deadly slap shot. When Julie blocked Ouellette’s shot, her thigh went numb for the rest of her shift and, while using the bathroom during second intermission, she noticed that the hit had blossomed into a massive bruise. So, obviously she knew exactly what compliment she was paying the forward.

“Gosh, I am not looking forward to blocking your slap shot again at the Olympics,” Julie grinned, offering Ouellette her hand. “It’s an absolute killer.”

“Chu?” Ouellette said.

Julie felt that stupid hope bubble up, perhaps this was finally the one, but Ouellette just frowned at her and skated past. There was no recognition. She didn’t shake Julie’s hand. She didn’t even make the slightest suggestion of offering her own. That stung. Julie completely understood Ouellette not being her soulmate nor having any interest in what she had to say, but she had assumed she’d at least have basic sportsmanship and shake her hand like the rest of the team. It was harder getting the rest of the compliments out, but Julie managed to pay one to every member of the team.

“I can’t believe you just sincerely complimented everyone on Team Canada,” Rugger laughed as they washed off in the showers. “They’re not worth the effort of individualized niceties, Chuey. I mean, Campbell’s a total—”

“—I’m well aware of what you like to call Campbell,” Julie cut her off. She was just a little tired of the profanity.

“I’m just saying, don’t feel bad that Ouellette snubbed you,” Rugger said. “She’s French-Canadian, which means she’s worse than the average Canadian. Totally not worth your time.”

Julie nodded, but she wasn’t really sure she believed her.

The US steamrolled their way through the preliminary rounds of the Olympics. Then things ground to a halt in the gold medal match. Despite the referees doling out penalty after penalty against Canada, the US was down by two at the end of second period. Their coach didn’t have any real advice for them during the intermission, so Julie threw her all into the last period. She put two shots on goal and in the last five minutes of the game Karyn cut Canada’s lead in half. However, not even pulling their goalie bought the US a third goal. For the first time in history, the US Women’s National Ice Hockey Team came in second in international competition.

Julie wept freely during the ceremony. She had never been prouder to serve her country, but she couldn’t help feeling like she had let everyone down. The locker room was silent as everyone changed out of their gear. Julie’s plan for the night was to go back to her hotel room, lick her wounds, and then spend the evening with her family. However, on her way out of the locker room, someone grabbed her sleeve. Julie stopped and turned to find that it was Ouellette with her gold medal prominently displayed on her chest.

“I knew a gold medal match would be intense, but experiencing it was something else,” Ouellette said. “Julie, right? In the interest of good sportsmanship and international comradely, would you like to get a drink?”

“I’m not legal,” Julie snapped. She couldn’t believe this Canadian, who had refused to shake her hand when she complimented her after an exhibition game, was asking her out now. Perhaps she’d feel guilty about her tone later, but right now she was upset. Ouellette had taken her gold. “In any case, I’d rather be with my team right now.”

“She giving you trouble, Chuey?” Rugger called. She and a few other teammate had just exited the locker room and they looked more than ready to start something if need be.

“No,” Julie said, shaking her head. She went to Rugger’s side. “Don’t worry about it. She’s not worth it.”

Julie started at Harvard in the fall and so began her NCAA hockey career. To her surprise, Ouellette continued seeking her out. It wasn’t often, as they played in different NCAA conferences hundreds of miles apart, but on the rare occasion they did see each other, Ouellette made a point to talk to her both before and after the game.

It took Julie completely by surprise when they played the Bulldogs in November. She hadn’t even realized Ouellette attended Minnesota Duluth until they arrived on Friday. Ouellette approached her after Harvard’s post flight practice and asked if Julie wanted to go out for dinner. Obviously, she declined, but the months since the Olympics at least allowed her to keep her tone civil. Saturday’s game was a hard fought 2-1 Crimson win. The team was in high spirits afterward, so this time Julie agreed when Ouellette asked to speak with her. If she ever wanted to make peace with Canada, she couldn’t refuse the only Canadian offering her an olive branch.

There wasn’t time to leave the arena, since Julie’s team had to drive down to the Twin Cities and face Minnesota tomorrow, but they chatted for almost half an hour leaning against a concrete wall. Conversation focused mostly on hockey, with a few awkward personal questions mixed in. Julie learned that Ouellette had a sister and liked to go by Caro instead of Caroline. She suggested Julie call her that, but Julie doubted she ever would.

They lost to Minnesota 4-3 the next day, but then beat them 6-1 in the Frozen Four semifinals. Julie didn’t cheer as Duluth crushed their opponents, but she wasn’t sorry to face Ouellette in the national championship. It felt a little like a rematch without the national pressure. Unfortunately, the results were the same as the last time hardware was on the line and Ouellette’s team won 4-3.

“Better luck next time, eh?” Julie said with her best Canadian accent as she shook Ouellette’s hand.

“You were good out there,” Ouellette said. She seemed genuinely concerned about Julie.

“But you guys were better,” Julie said, cracking a watery grin before moving onto the next handshake. She was getting too good at smiling in the face of defeat.

They continued meeting at college and international games. After that first year, Julie made a point to leave time in her schedule so that they could catch up. Slowly, Caroline went from acquaintance to friend. They weren’t especially close, but Julie looked forward to seeing her. Win or lose, Caroline usually made her laugh over a cup of coffee.

Then the Turin Olympic semifinals happened. Julie didn’t understand how a game could go so sideways, but Sweden was moving on to the gold medal match and the US was dancing with Finland for bronze. At least there was enough time between the games for Julie to stop reeling from the loss. Her team beat Finland handily; she even had two assists. Julie watched the gold medal game with her bronze medal on. Of course she wasn’t cheering for Canada, but she couldn’t help smiling when Caroline put one past Martin.

Canada and the US ended up celebrating at the same bar; there weren’t that many options. As the night wore on Julie eventually ended up in a booth beside Caroline. No one was paying them any attention, as the live wires in the bar drew all the attention. With alcohol in her system and the games over for her, Julie relaxed. It wasn’t the piece of hardware she wanted, but Julie still had a shiny new medal to fiddle with and at least she won this one. She caught Caroline playing with her own medal and she realized they hadn’t said anything about today’s results.

“Congratulations on your win,” Julie said. “It was quite the blow out.”

“Same to you,” Caroline replied, cracking a smile. Her English had improved dramatically since she propositioned her at the last Olympics.

“What did you expect? We were playing Finland.” Julie shrugged. “They don’t have much offensive power.”

“Neither does Sweden.”

“They had enough to knock us out of the running.”

Caroline bumped her shoulder into Julie’s hard enough to shake her. “Don’t focus on that. Today we both won and that never happens. I want us to enjoy being winners together.”

“I suppose you’re right, Caroline.”

“What did I tell you to call me?” Caroline asked. “It’s Caro, Julie, Caro.”

“Then why don’t you call me Chuey?” Julie countered, crossing her arms.

“You never said I could. Besides, I don’t want to associate you with a wookie.” Caroline made a face. “You’re not that hairy.”

“But I can roar,” Julie protested. She tried making some wookie noises, but didn’t want to be too loud and draw attention to herself, which rather ruined the effect. Still, she had Caroline giggling helplessly, so Julie counted her performance as a success. “I haven’t seen those films in ages.”

“We should get together and watch the original trilogy,” Caroline said once she got her breathing under control. “I was planning to take a vacation after the Olympics. We could get together. You should call me.”

“That would mean I’d need your number,” Julie said. Caroline’s grin widened and her eyebrows raised, but Julie kept her expression blank. “What?”

“Aren’t you going to ask?”

“For your number? Why? You’re the one who keeps instigating things with me,” Julie retorted. She poked Caroline’s side, trying to tickle her, but Caroline easily caught Julie’s hands. “Why haven’t you ever asked for my number?”

“Because you won’t call me Caro.”

“Seriously?”

“Well, yeah. I am a very patient woman, Julie, at least about things that really matter. If you are not willing to call me by my preferred moniker, then I doubt you would give me your number if I asked for it. I don’t like to fail, so I will wait until there is a reasonable chance of success.”

“If you want my phone number you can have it, Caro,” Julie said. “It’s not that big of a deal. And I would have started calling you ‘Caro’ ages ago if you had made your preferences clear.”

The smile Caro gave her nearly took Julie’s breath away. They sat in that booth discussing childhood interests, while their teammates got rowdier as the night progressed. They didn’t part ways until the bar threw everyone out after last call. Julie’s team was in high spirits as they stumbled back to the Americans’ lodgings singing off key. Julie full heartedly joined them in their celebrations because tonight she was a winner.

Julie went back to Harvard for her senior year. When she graduated in 2007, Julie knew she wanted to keep playing hockey, but she also had to find a job to support herself. The national team’s stipend wasn’t really enough to live on. To her surprise, Caro provided her with a solution. After the Olympics Caro had headed back to Duluth, but not as a student. Shannon Miller, Duluth’s head coach for women’s hockey, had hired her as an assistant coach and now she needed another one. With Caro’s assistance, Julie landed the position.

“You’re finally here!” Caro laughed, literally sweeping Julie off her feet when she got out of her car. After a two-day road trip Julie wanted to walk around, not swing through the air.

“Yes, now put me down!” Once her feet were back on solid ground Julie pulled Caro down into a tight hug. “It’s good to see you! I’m so excited to be coaching with you this season!”

“I am too, but I don’t understand why you wouldn’t move in with me.” Caro tried keeping her tone light, but Julie could hear a sulky quality. She had really wanted them to live together and Julie didn’t understand why. They were finally making enough neither one needed a roommate and they could still afford to play hockey, as their schedule permitted.

“Because it’s not significantly cheaper for us to get a two bedroom over each having our own apartment when I don’t know what kind of roommate you’d be,” Julie explained. “I don’t want to have to find a new place mid year because it turns out… I dunno, you regularly have sex on the kitchen counter and are cultivating an extensive mold colony in the hall closet.”

“Seriously?” Caro laughed. “I can assure you, I do neither.”

“They were the first examples that came to mind,” Julie explained sheepishly. “My point is, I’d rather be neighbors because I don’t want to get into some sort of friendship ending fight with you if we’re bad roommates.”

“That will never happen.”

“You say that now…” Julie trailed off when Caro grabbed her arm. She looked even more serious than she did on the ice. Until that moment, Julie hadn’t thought that possible.

“I swear that no matter what happens, no matter the fight or the number of times we end up on opposite sides, you will never lose me,” Caro promised. Caro wasn’t exactly a flippant person, but the solemnity she used to discuss their relationship had Julie feeling like she was missing half the conversation.

“Does that mean you’re still going to help me move in?” Julie grinned, hoping to lighten the mood. It worked because Caro snorted and nodded.

They spent all day moving Julie’s things into the apartment. She didn’t actually have that much stuff, but there were only two of them and it took a while moving the furniture around until Julie was finally satisfied with the layout. When they were finished, the place looked great and Julie ordered a pizza to celebrate. It wasn’t skating, but she figured they had burned enough calories hefting things to pig out. When Julie came back upstairs with the pizza Caro held a bottle of wine. 

“I ran back to my place for it,” Caro explained. They had made frequent trips down the hall to Caro’s apartment for supplies all day. “I figured we’d want something nice.”

“Works for me.”

Julie set the pizza on the kitchen table and rummaged through the cabinets for a pair of glasses. When she finally found a suitable pair she turned around to find Caro wiping sweat off her face with the neck of her shirt. This action pulled her shirt up enough to reveal her abdominals, which were covered in a familiar looking scrawl. It certainly peaked Julie’s curiosity.

“I’m sorry, this is really rude of me, but what does your tattoo say?” Julie asked as Caro’s shirt fell back into place. Typically one didn’t ask about another’s soulmark. It wasn’t only bad form, but helped keep people from conning others into believing they were soulmates. “I wouldn’t ask, but I thought I saw the word ‘Olympics’ just now and I’m nosey.”

“Shouldn’t you already know?” Caro grinned. It faded as Julie just stared at her. She pulled off her shirt to reveal her entire tattoo. “It says ‘Gosh, I am not looking forward to blocking your slap shot again at the Olympics.’ You said that to me after our last game before the 2002 Olympics. I was so surprised I skated away without a word.”

“You’re kidding me,” Julie said. She could not believe her soulmate had gotten that much useful information. She could not believe Caro hadn’t mentioned any of this in the last five years.

“I’m not. When I was a kid I liked softball better than hockey—it was easier to put together a pick up game at the park near my house—but I worked so much harder at hockey because I knew it was how I was going to find my soulmate. The Olympics were just a bonus.” Caro gave her the softest smile. Julie could suddenly identify several emotions in her stare that she had never noticed before. “I can’t believe we've never talked about this before.”

“I can,” Julie grumbled. After uncorking the wine and pouring two hefty glasses, she swallowed a mouthful before sitting down. “Please continue. I’d really like to hear the rest of this story.”

“Okay… I spent the two months between finding out and the Olympics planning out my first words to you. It was cocky of me, but I was certain we would meet in the gold medal match and I wanted to wait until after the game to talk to you. Your words put me in a haze for the rest of that night and I wanted to face you at your best.” Caro grinned at the memory. “I also wanted my words to you to be just as memorable as yours were to me. I know you didn’t take them that well, but I understand you were upset about having just lost. In the last five years we have built a wonderful relationship and, while I am happy with how things are, I thought we would be ready to live together by now.”

Julie rose and socked Caro in the arm.

“Ow! What the heck, Julie?” Caro demanded, rubbing the injury. “That hurt!”

“You fink! I remember both incidents and that is not at all what happened!” Julie shouted. She grabbed her shirtsleeve and pulled it up, revealing her soulmark. “Do you see this? This itty-bitty mark? That’s my soulmark! All it says is ‘Chu’ and you didn’t even bother to give me any sort of punctuation!”

“What?”

“I’ve spent my entire life coming to attention whenever I heard my name because I had so little information to go on and I didn’t want to miss my soulmate. Who knew you practically had a time and date tattooed onto your belly?” Julie laughed a little hysterically and started crying. Caro got up from her seat and circled around the table to her. “I remember complimenting you on your stupid slap shot. You said my name and I got that silly bubbly feeling I get whenever a stranger says my last name and I looked for some sort of recognition on your face. Because that’s all I had to go on. But you barely looked at me and didn’t even bother to shake my hand.”

“I am so sorry,” Caro whispered. She pulled Julie into her arms. Julie clung to her. “I swear I did not remember saying anything to you that day.”

“Everyone else shook my hand.”

“If I had realized I had spoken I would have sought you out immediately. I am so sorry. I… I must have sounded like a creep in Salt Lake City.”

“You really did. I thought you were some kind of perv hitting on me right after the game,” Julie laughed. She wiped her eyes on her sleeve. “You’re lucky you’ve grown on me because otherwise I’d call this whole soulmate thing off right now.”

“Please don’t,” Caro said, looking absolutely stricken. Julie couldn’t, not really, since a soulmate was a soulmate, but she could decide to never have anything to do with her again. That would really suck for both of them.

“I wasn’t planning to,” Julie said. Caro relaxed a fraction. “However, we’re going to take things slow. I just found out something you’ve known for five years and didn’t bother mentioning to me, which seriously, Caro? What were you thinking?”

“I’m bad with words,” Caro admitted.

“That’s the understatement of the century,” Julie said dryly. She smiled. “We’re going to try dating, okay? It helps knowing that I already like you, but I need to adjust this shift in our relationship before I can commit to anything. I just moved across the country for a new job—I really don’t want to mess with my life anymore than I already have.”

“We will handle this however you want,” Caro promised. “I need you in my life and, while I would gladly fight for you, Julie, I will not fight with you over this.”

“Is there anything else I need know?” Julie asked.

“I love you. I hope that in time you feel the same about me.”

“I imagine I probably will.”

Julie sat back down and tore into the rapidly cooling pizza. This was so much to process on an empty stomach and they still had millions of things to say. Caro did the same after pulling her chair closer to Julie. As they ate, they had a much needed talk and held hands. For the first time in her life Julie didn’t mind leaving her soulmark uncovered. It was still obscenely terse, but now it didn’t feel like an unfinished thought—it felt like the start of something.


	2. Sweet

When the doorbell rang Charlie was surprised to find Marie on the other side. “I thought I give you a key?”

“Yeah, but I feel weird using it when you are in town,” Marie explained, shrugging as she jammed her hands into her pockets. 

“You realize that sounds super weird,” Charlie said. She stepped back allowing Marie entry into her home.

“Oh, you know what I mean!” Marie scowled at Charlie. “You gave it to me for cat sitting. I would never abuse that trust.”

“I appreciate the sentiment, but when you invite yourself over for kitty cuddles, it seems rather silly,” Charlie laughed. Sam trotted into the room and wound himself through their legs. “Looks like he realized you were coming.”

“Sammy!” Marie cooed. She scooped the cat up into her arms and followed Charlie into the kitchen. “What are you making? It smells pretty good in here.”

“Pie,” Charlie said. “I just finished making the crust.”

“What flavor?”

“Not entirely sure yet,” Charlie admitted. “There are more than enough ripe berries in the back yard to make a pie, but I don’t know what the composition will be. Have to go out and see what I can pick.”

“Do you want any help?” Marie asked, setting Sam down.

“If you want.” Charlie picked up a pair of strainers from the drying rack. She offered one to Marie. “The raspberries and brambleberries are out along the back fence. You should borrow something long sleeved, otherwise the bushes will scratch your arms.”

Marie nodded and grabbed one of Charlie’s spare flannel shirts off a chair on her way out to the backyard. Charlie made a point of shutting the patio door before Sam could get out. As much as she loved the outdoors, her feline was a little too destructive on the local bird population for her to allow him free range. Then they headed to the berry bushes.

“Try to pick the bigger ones. Raspberries only develop a rich flavor after turning a deep maroon. They also practically fall off their stem, unlike their younger bright red companions,” Charlie explained. She demonstrated the maneuver for Marie’s benefit—shaking the whole bush in the process of pulling off a young raspberry, which actually caused a couple of nearby ripe ones to fall off.

“Is the same true of the brambleberries?” Marie asked. “They are awfully tiny in comparison.”

“I have a bush out front with larger berries, but most of them are pretty small,” Charlie agreed. “For these, they start out red and turn black, which is why they are also known as black raspberries. I prefer calling them brambleberries.”

“Though that name is true for both species,” Marie said. She lightly tapped the spikes on both bushes. “I can see why you said to wear the extra shirt.”

“Sometimes I forgo the extra shirt, but there have been a lot of wasps around lately and the extra protection is helpful. How about you start with the brambleberries and I will work on raspberries?”

“Sure thing,” Marie agreed. They couldn’t have been picking for more than a minute before Marie yelped. “Oh ick! Am I bleeding? I had not realized the thorns stabbed me that badly.”

Charlie came over to check her out. When she saw Marie’s hands she laughed. “That is just berry juice, Pou. It is true it looks rather bloody, but blood would be more viscous.”

“Gross. Raspberries do not bleed like this.”

“Yep. Would you rather switch fruit? I want both in the pie.”

“No, this is fine and I am already stained with berry blood, so I should keep picking them. I was just startled,” Marie grinned. “No biggie.”

They picked while making idle chatter. Mostly it was about the Japanese beetles that were plaguing Charlie’s garden. While they were pretty to look at with an iridescent shell, they were everywhere in the berry bushes—chewing away at the leaves or gathered in little clumps having beetle orgies. However, the most damage was to Charlie’s roses. She only had a few bushes out front—she preferred to devote most of her time and effort into growing fruits and vegetables—but the beetles would completely demolish the blooms before they even had time to fully open. The worst part was that she couldn’t just squash the beetles, as that would release pheromones attracting more of their brethren to her yard.

“So how do you get rid of them?” Marie asked. Her basket was nearly full and she seemed ready for another task.

“You drown them. I keep an old peanut better jar full of water with a bit of dish soap, to break the surface tension, and regularly fill it with beetles,” Charlie explained. “It’s the only thing that works. When the jar is full I might flush them, but I prefer dumping them into the trash right before pickup. They smell so awful I would not want them clogging up my toilet.”

“Do you want me to grab the jar?”

“Nope. We have enough berries to bake that pie.”

They left the beetles to their revelry and went back inside. As soon as Marie sat down, Sam was back in her lap. That meant she couldn’t help with the baking, but Charlie didn’t mind. The recipe she was using was so simple there wasn’t really enough for two people to do, at least not since the crust was already made.

Charlie rinsed all the berries in the sink and then poured them into her grandmother’s old stoneware mixing bowl. She wasn’t certain how much the bowl held, but even after the berries were slightly crushed, she got a full pie’s worth of berries out of it. Then she poured in two and a half tablespoons of instant tapioca, for structural integrity, and a quarter cup of sugar for sweetness. The recipe she was working off of originally called for three quarters of a cup, but one time she accidentally botched the ratio and no one noticed the difference. Now she always used the lesser sugar amount. It was for the best, since as a professional athlete Charlie and a lot of her friends had to be extremely careful as to what they ate.

Once the ingredients were all in the bowl she thoroughly mixed it and then let it sit for fifteen minutes. While it sat, she set the oven to preheat to 375ºF. Then she sat down at the kitchen table beside Marie.

“Remind me to stick the pie crust in the oven in ten minutes,” Charlie said.

“Does preheating it really make a difference?” Marie asked.

“I haven’t noticed when using store bought crusts, but I try to avoid doing that whenever possible.”

“Because you have standards.”

“Exactly.”

“This recipe seems simple enough I could make it at home,” Marie mused. “I mean, you only mixed like three ingredients.”

“That is exactly why this pie is my preferred method for using up spare berries.”

“Would you give me shit if I made it with store bought crusts?”

“Of course,” Charlie grinned. “I mean, you would be disappointed in me if I did not rise to the opportunity, since that would mean I had lowered my standards.”

“Now you are just making fun of me because I refused to let you set me up on a blind date.”

“Oh yes, Miss I-have-two-Olympic-Gold-Medal-Game-Winning-Goals have standards that cannot be lowered to that of a mere goalie’s in matters of the heart. Or the groin.”

“I never said that, Charlie! I simply said your taste in men was untrustworthy because… you know.”

“That was a long time ago and I had a lady lined up for you, Pou,” Charlie said, stressing the ‘l’ in lady. She had a point to make after all. “Some harmless experience flirting would have been good for you, especially considering your soulmate.”

“Oh.”

The oven beeped, signaling that it was fully heated and Charlie suppressed the urge to curse. Having the berry mix sit an extra five minutes while the piecrust warmed was not the end of the world. Baking involved just as much patience as tending goal. Once the crust was in the oven she decided to just lean against it. It wasn’t worth sitting down for such a short wait. She couldn’t wait to start putting it together.

“You really like cooking, huh?” There was a somber quality to Marie’s tone that caught Charlie’s attention.

“Yeah. Cooking and hockey have been the two constants in my life for as long as I can remember. I’m not certain I’m good at anything that doesn’t involve pads,” Charlie laughed. “On a more serious note, I’m just happy to know that even after I have to hang up my hockey pads for good, I can still pull these on and pursue my other passion.”

“Are you planning to switch to oven pads soon?”

“Permanently, you mean?” Charlie asked. Marie nodded. She sighed and pulled the piecrust out of the oven. “No, but February was my last Olympics.”

“Oh, come on, Charlie, you are the best goaltender we have and you are only 31.”

“I love you, but Shannon and the rest of Hockey Canada will fight you on the first statement and the whole point of the second is that while I am only 31 now, I will be 35 in 2018. “

“Caro was practically 35 at Sochi and Wicks was 36!”

“I highly suspect they are both made of whatever Jaromir Jagr is, which is nothing our mere mortal bodies could ever hope to match. More to the point, they are skaters and I am a 31-year-old goaltender who has represented Canada at four Olympics. You of all people ought to know incredible that is considering how deep our talent reserve is.”

“I do and that is exactly why you are still at the top,” Marie said, crossing her arms.

“I barely saw any ice time at Sochi; I will not see any at Pyeong Chang. I can guarantee that.” Charlie scooped globs of berry out of the mixing bowl and spread them across the piecrust. She wanted to fill the tin evenly so that there wouldn’t be any empty pockets or a lopsided top. “The truth is I know I do not have a 5th Olympics in me. There are two ways I can deal with this fact: ignore it and claw as hard as I can to the national team making this as hard of a transition as possible on everyone involved or I can gracefully age out. I choose the latter. I want to have a future.”

“But Charlie, I am not ready to have someone else in goal,” Marie protested.

“I am not gone yet, Pou,” Charlie grinned. “Only 31, remember? You sound like I am already dead.”

“When people stop playing professionally, they get swept up in normal stuff and I never hear from them,” Marie mumbled. She hugged Sam tightly. “You are one of my closest friends, old timer. I am not ready to lose you to marriage, kids, the whole nine yards.”

“Woah, woah, you make it sound like I am already married with kids on the way. I have yet to even meet my soulmate,” Charlie said, self consciously brushing words inked around her shoulder, like she always did whenever the subject arose. “Unlike some people.”

“Sorry,” Marie mumbled, glancing down at her own mark. Even if she hadn’t really figured things out with her soulmate, there was a relief in knowing who that person was. Charlie still didn’t have that peace of mind.

“Don’t be. I may never meet her or maybe we will stumble into each other next week at a bakery. Whatever the case, I promise you, my couch is always yours,” Charlie laughed. “I am not going anywhere and I do not plan on quitting the national team just yet. I hope to play for another two or three years with them—Caro’s only planning on one and Julie might already be off the US team—and I expect to be with the Stars for even longer.”

“So, you are not dropping hockey?”

“Never. Even when I am old and retired I will still come to every home game and be a face in the crowd. Someone’s got to cheer for you.”

“Ouch! I will have you know I am a national hero.”

“I know,” Charlie grinned. She smoothed out the top of the pie and then slid it into the oven on a tray. “I will play hockey full time for as long as I am able, but after this season I need to start looking ahead to the future. I think… I want to go to culinary school. You know, if they accept me.”

“I cannot imagine any school not accepting Charline Labonté,” Marie said, indignant at the very idea Charlie might not make the cut.

“Well unfortunately, they only count my official experience with oven mitts, which I mostly lack,” Charlie laughed. “I need to look into my options and figure out what I need to do to improve my chances on being accepted. Then do it. It is time to start pursuing my other great passion and the best part is, I have decades before I hit my peak in cooking.”

“If you need any help, from researching culinary programs to a recipe guinea pig, I am happy to assist,” Marie offered.

“I will gladly take you up on it,” Charlie said. She reached over and squeezed Marie’s shoulder. “I promise Pou, you’ll be begging me to leave before I ever walk out of your life.”

“We shall see,” Marie grinned.

Conversation lightened considerably after that. They joked and teased each other until the pie had been in the oven for half an hour. Charlie pulled the pie out with a pair of moose print oven mitts and set it on the stovetop to cool. The piecrust had turned a lovely golden brown in the oven, ringing the open-faced pie quite prettily. Marie washed her hands and set the table. Once the pie had cooled enough it wasn’t an immediate burning hazard, Charlie cut out two large pieces and brought them over to the table.

“Generally I prefer this pie cold to warm, since I’m not a big fan of warm fruit,” Charlie admitted, “but I can never resist having a slice when it is fresh out of the oven.”

“I doubt you could do a better job selling me on this pie than you already have,” Marie said. So they dug in. 

The warm, lightly crushed raspberries and brambleberries hit Charlie’s tongue with decades’ worth of memories. She could taste her childhood eating berries off the bush to stave the summer heat. On a warm July day like this, she could never tell if she was truly tasting this pie, or the ones her grandmother used to make following the same recipe. From the running commentary Marie seemed to be making about the flavor explosion in her mouth, Charlie guessed what she was tasting was of the here and now. It that could only be described as deliciously sweet.


	3. Sick

When the alarm went off Caro was never one to leap out of bed and greet the day with a breath of fire, but today was worse than usual. Today she couldn’t even manage to roll over and instead simply let out a little moan. Julie had to lean over her and shut off Caro’s alarm for her. She could feel Julie shifting around and then the whole bed shook when she got up, which made Caro feel nauseous.

“Come on babe, time to get up,” Julie said, lightly slapping Caro’s thigh. When she didn’t start moving, Julie leaned in and touched Caro’s shoulder. “Caro, are you okay?”

“I’m coming,” Caro groaned.

She started to untangle herself from the blankets and got it mostly off her legs before she vomited over the side of the bed. Julie grabbed a trashcan and caught most of the mess, but there was still definitely clean up needed. When Caro finally finished, Julie gently pushed her back into place on the bed. She touched Caro’s forehead and made a hissing sound.

“You’re burning up,” Julie said. She walked into the bathroom and came back with a damp washcloth, which she laid across Caro’s forehead. “I bet you’ve got that stomach flu that’s been going around. Stay in bed. It’s better you take a sick day than come in and puke on the ice.”

“But—“ Caro began.

“No arguing. You know I don’t like to exert my authority, but I’m head coach and you’re staying home today.” Julie bent down and kissed Caro’s temple. “Seriously though, Caro, the longer you argue the more likely I’m going to be late to work.”

That shut Caro up. It was bad enough the Stingers would be missing one assistant coach; they didn’t need their head coach late as well. She shut her eyes, but she could hear Julie bustling about the apartment, clean up Caro’s mess, and then get in the shower. She must have fallen asleep again because Caro was startled awake when Julie set a pitcher of water on the nightstand beside her.

“Hey, didn’t mean to wake you,” Julie said.

“It’s okay,” Caro smiled.

“Okay, so here’s some ice water and a glass, make certain you stay hydrated, and I’ve put like three buckets on the floor beside you just in case,” Julie said. She picked up a bottle and shook it before setting it back down on the nightstand. “Take some Tylenol when you feel up to it and I restocked the fridge with more green Gatorade, your favorite. Plus I made certain to clear a path to the bathroom and set out extra toilet paper, since you’ll probably need it.”

“I love you,” Caro said.

“I love you too,” Julie said. She leaned down and gently kissed Caro on the lips. “Try to sleep as much as you can and call me if anything comes up.”

“You probably shouldn’t be kissing me in case I infect you.”

“I spent the night lying beside you. If I’m going to get it, I’ve already got it,” Julie grinned. Her smile faded. “I plan to stay as far away from the team as I can, since I don’t want to infect them either.”

“Smart.”

Julie waved goodbye and then shouted her love before leaving the apartment. This put a smile on Caro’s face because it was so typically Julie. She downed a glass of water and swallowed a couple of pills before settling back on her pillows. She didn’t expect them to help, pain medication of any sort rarely seemed to help with her periods, but she took them anyway in hopes they prevented the pain from getting any worse. Boby, their tortoiseshell cat, leaped into bed with her and curled up on Caro’s chest. His purring was warm and comforting enough it put her right back to sleep.

She woke at the sound of the front door slamming. Groggy and totally unaware of the time, Caro assumed it was Julie coming home from work. Her stomach gurgled uncertainly. Perhaps she ran home on her lunch break.

“Julie?” Caro called. She wanted her to know she was awake.

“No,” Marie said, stepping into the room. “It’s just me. Julie called and said you were sick, so I thought I’d stop by and check on you.”

“Oh.” Caro blinked sleepily at her young friend. “That’s sweet of you. You didn’t have to.”

“I wanted to! You never get sick, and I did not want to leave all of your care on Julie, since that’s an unfair expectation society demands of your soulmate. I mean, if I got sick you two would take care of me even though I have my soulmate.”

“Your soulmate lives in Boston. She can’t easily take care of you,” Caro pointed out. Still, she had to admit that Julie and she would gladly take care of Marie no matter what the circumstances were. She was family.

“That is beside the point and you know it. What I was trying to say is that I wasn’t doing anything in particular this morning, so it was no trouble stopping by to check on you,” Marie said. Caro was certain that was a lie, Marie was always busy, but she appreciated the white lie. Marie awkwardly lifted a plastic shopping bag. “Julie said she didn’t have time to run to the store, so I stopped and picked up bananas and applesauce. Best thing for an upset stomach.”

“Thanks.”

She was going to say something more, but Caro was suddenly hit with an urgent need for the restroom. She scrambled out of bed as fast as she could, upsetting Boby, and rushed past Marie into the bathroom. Thankfully, she had enough presence of mind to shut the door behind her. She might not always bother with Julie, but there were certain boundaries Caro refused to cross with Marie. A few awful minutes passed for Caro before Marie knocked on the door. 

“Hey, are you okay?” Marie asked.

“No, but you coming in here wouldn’t help,” Caro replied. She shivered and rubbed her bare arms. She was freezing. As soon as she got out of here she was going to put on a sweatshirt.

“Is there anything I can do to help?”

“Could you put the kettle on?”

Marie made an affirmative noise and Caro could hear the floorboards creak as she walked off to the kitchen. It took a while longer for Caro to finish up and by the time she felt her hands were properly washed, she vaguely felt like she needed to go again. Instead she exited the bathroom and shuffled into the living room. Flopping onto the couch Caro stared blankly into the kitchen. Marie was pouring hot water into a pair of mugs and digging into the tea drawer.

“What kind of tea do you want?” Marie asked. “Chamomile, green, earl grey, some sort of herbal?”

“Whatever works,” Caro shrugged.

She looked around, trying to remember where she left her favorite sweater, but didn’t see it anywhere. Julie must have put it away when they cleaned the apartment on Sunday. She could head back to the bedroom and find something warm, but that meant getting up again and she was fairly certain that the only thing getting her off the couch at the moment was another trip to the bathroom. 

Marie wrapped a fleece blanket around Caro’s shoulders. She made a point of wrapping it tightly around her arms so that it wouldn’t fall off. Caro looked down at the maple leaf pattern decorating the blanket and smiled. It felt so nice and warm.

“That should keep you from shivering,” Marie said. “I made you cran-apple since it’s supposedly infused with vitamin C. Are you okay, Caro? You seem really out of it.”

“I am really out of it,” Caro said. “I feel slow and groggy… like I can’t fully wake up and I keep feeling nauseous.”

Marie gave her a hug and then fetched her tea. She stayed long enough to watch Caro finish her cup and eat a banana. Marie also wanted her to eat a dish of applesauce in hopes it might settle her stomach, but Caro knew she couldn’t manage that. She had to make another trip to the bathroom before Marie left and when she got out that time she was tucked back into bed. Caro didn’t stay awake long enough to hear her friend leave.

She had some intense fever dreams. Mostly they centered around Caro shooting pucks at an empty net and missing every time. Shots from the right circle, left circle, top of the crease, or anywhere along the blue line, it didn’t matter; nothing ever went in. It was especially frustrating when the zombies started climbing over the boards and shambling toward her. Despite having an entire bucket full of pucks, Caro didn’t hit a single one. She woke just as they started eating her and immediately leaned over the bed to puke in a trashcan.

“Hey, you don’t sound so good.” Caro looked up just as Charlie sat down on the bed beside her. “Julie wasn’t kidding when she said you were sick. Do you need to throw up some more or are you ready to lie back down?”

“I think I’m good,” Caro sighed. She was proud to lie back down unassisted, but then Charlie wiped her face with a tissue.

“You were fairly neat, but I figured you didn’t want the back spray drying on your face,” Charlie said. “I brought you some homemade chicken and rice soup. You don’t need to eat it all, but try to choke down at least a cup full. You need to eat if you want to ride out this virus. After all, it’s not like you’ve got any fat stores to fall back on if you stay sick for too long.”

“I’m really not hungry,” Caro said.

“Can you try anyway?” Charlie asked. She gave Caro a pleading look. “Pretty please?”

In the end Charlie had to spoon-feed Caro a cup of soup. It was delicious, just like everything Charlie cooked—the goalie planned to go to culinary school once she retired from hockey and was already working in the industry—but Caro didn’t have an appetite. By the time Charlie had deemed she had eaten enough, Caro could barely keep her eyes open.

“Get more rest. Julie should be home in a few hours,” Charlie said. She kissed her friend’s forehead. “I’m certain she’ll be ready to baby you as soon as she gets home.”

“You know, all this attention from you, Marie, and Julie is leaving me pretty spoiled. I don’t know what I’ll do if I stay this sick for a couple of days and the visits drop off.”

“Caro, I promise that as long as you’re too sick to take care of yourself I’ll stop by to feed you at least once a day,” Charlie promised. “Because that’s what family does. Now shut up and get some rest. I’ll stick around until you’re asleep again.”

Caro chuckled at that, which made Charlie smile. They’d been friends for too long not to consider each other family and Charlie was the stubbornest sister she could ever have, though Charlie insisted that description more accurately described Caro. In her weakened state Caro didn’t have the energy to fight with Charlie on this, so she shut her eyes. Before she fell asleep, she could feel Charlie running her fingers through her hair as she crooned a lullaby. It was nice, but part of her wished it was Julie doing this for her. Familial care was important, but she liked affection from her soulmate best. 

When she woke again someone was still running their fingers through her hair. She still felt like crap, but for the first time that day Caro actually felt hungry. Opening her eyes, she was pleasantly surprised to find Julie beside her. She had half expected it to still be Charlie, but from the way Julie was nestled into her side, it was clear the goalie had gone home some time ago.

“Hey sleepy head,” Julie said. “How are you feeling?”

“Hungry,” Caro admitted.

“That’s a good sign.”

Julie petted her hair a few more times and then slowly rose from the bed. Boby was upset that he was yet again losing his warm spot and crawled onto Caro’s feet. She couldn’t imagine that was a particularly comfy sleeping spot, but the cat seemed happy there and he was keeping her toes toasty, so she wasn’t about to complain. Julie returned with a container of applesauce and a bottle of Gatorade. She peeled back the foil top and stuck a spoon in it before handing it over to Caro. Then she cracked open the drink.

“I know you’re hungry, but let’s see you keep this down before I give you more,” Julie said. “I heard from the girls you were having issues with that.”

“You’re all keeping tabs on me, eh?” Caro grinned.

“We worry about you because we love you and it’s a lot easier to care for you if we talk to each other.”

“Mmm hmm.” Still, it touched Caro to know they all cared about her.

Since Julie didn’t feel like cooking for herself, they finished off Charlie’s chicken and rice soup. Julie crawled into bed beside Caro and put on game tape. She needed to review their upcoming opponents and implement the best counter strategy into team practice. Caro tried to pay attention as well, since she usually helped Julie with this job, but she couldn’t keep her eyes open. It was silly considering how much she’d slept today, but she was full and warm cuddling with Julie, which made her sleepy. Before she could even think about brushing her teeth, she fell asleep again.

When her alarm went off the next morning Caro groaned, stretched, and sat up. She still didn’t feel great, but she was pleasantly surprised to realize she felt significantly better. She still had to run to the bathroom and she had a feeling she’d be doing a lot of that today, but at least Caro’s stomach had finally settled. A quick check with the thermometer also determined she was no longer running a fever. She hopped into the tub and after a quick shower Caro almost felt normal again.

She was still toweling her hair dry as she returned to the bedroom. This was a fairly typical part of her routine because normally Julie would be ready to bathe as soon as she finished and that meant clearing out of the bathroom ASAP. So Caro was surprised to realize Julie hadn’t moved from her position as a lump in bed since the alarm sounded. Caro walked over to her side of the bed and gently brushed a hand down her cheek.

“How are you feeling, Julie?” Caro asked, but she had her suspicions. Julie’s cheek was burning up.

“Like I want to throw up,” Julie groaned.

“Guess it’s my turn to take care you.”

At least Caro had more than enough time to rearrange all of her sickbed materials to the other side of the room before Julie needed them. However, she still needed all of them before Caro left for work. Luckily, Julie had finished writing up her notes last night before succumbing to stomach flu and they were able to carry on without her. Less luckily, later in the day Caro got phone calls from Marie and Charlie saying they had both come down with symptoms as well. Caro suspected she must have infected them earlier in the week.

Caro picked Marie and Charlie up on her way home. It would be far easier to take care of everyone under the same roof and hopefully they could keep the illness better contained if they stuck together. In the end they all ended up cuddling in bed together, much to Boby’s displeasure. He couldn’t find a single spot in bed that didn’t contain flailing ill human and fled in disgust to his cat tree in the living room. Caro almost joined him out there on the couch, since she was no longer actively puking. It made sense and would have given everyone a little more room, but the moment she turned to leave, all three gave her puppy eyes and asked if she was abandoning them. She caved instantly, slipping under the covers beside Julie. It was definitely crowded in bed that night, but Caro couldn’t think of three people she’d rather be smooshed with, even if they were all violently ill. That was just another part of being family.


End file.
